


Bring a wolf to bed

by reliquexia



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Half-Sibling Incest, Romance, Smut, Starkcest, a bit of smut, jonsa, sure why not, they don't know they're cousins yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-27 03:31:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7601716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reliquexia/pseuds/reliquexia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa basically denied herself love all these years, and is now actively going after it ;)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bring a wolf to bed

It was a tragedy of a thing to see Sansa Stark lose the hope and glimmer in her eye when festivals and balls were thrown. Before, she had to beg father to have an event in her name, whereas now entire fayres are thrown in her honor. 

The people called her the Wolf of the North because she was the last trueborn Stark who decided to take charge of Winterfell. They pray to their wooded gods for an heir, but more importantly they wish fervently that their disillusioned princess finds love in their songs once again. 

When she does laugh with a man, or dance, or sing for him, it happens to be her bastard brother. The Starks were known for intermarrying, but this level of consanguinity was not to be overlooked so easily. 

Her handmaidens began to whisper about the unlocked door at night, when she left her heavily guarded room in the guise of wanting to pray, or take a walk. It only took her to a detour into Jon’s room. He was too trusting, and that was his downfall. There were no guards in front of the King’s chambers. The fool believed his bannermen would never dare this far into the castle for him. Nor did he expect his half-sister to slip into his room, wearing very little under her cloak. 

Theirs was a romance of unsaid words, love sips during breakfast, last bite of the pie during supper. She expected to see his arms extended out to latch onto as they took their daily walk around their manor. He assumed she would be there to greet him after a ride out, and call him in to talk about the day as her nimble fingers meded his travel worn vesture. 

It was the rushed glances at each other when they were drunk, and heated arguments that left both flushed, and the rough grasp as they moved each other out of harm’s way. It was an untold level of comfort between two people, who had unconsciously given each other access to their entire self. 

She was tired of the sad clucking every woman of marriageable age and beyond gave when they saw her, but even more so of the longing sighs they aimed at the handsome hero of the North. How they would stop their work to stare at their King as he taught his squires to fence until Sansa barked at them to get back to work

While Lady grew to be the smallest of the direwolves, Ghost had grown to become the largest. And when Sansa wrote her letters overlooking Jon in the library, she would find Ghost and him sharing eye contact as the wolf twisted and wound his way around her legs. He felt like an entirely new breed compared to Lady. She was more docile and friendly. Ghost was keenly possessive towards her, even more than he was with his bonded man. It was especially apparent when loud mouthed men were around. Sometimes she felt he was more Jon that wolf, as they seemed to time when their faces scrunched up in irritation. 

It was what pushed her to take the first initiative, and present herself in only a slip, curling up to him, waking him up through a series of soft kisses along his neck. There was only so much a man can deny, and a pliant and warm Sansa was near impossible to turn away. Yet with all the strength he could muster, he pushed her off.

“You always keep the dress on in the dreams. Have you become a nightmare? Will I finally taste your skin before light breaks this apparition?” he sighed, eyes half-closed in disbelief. 

She could only keen high pitched moans of his name in return. This was wrong. It was sinful, and everything her Lady mother would be ashamed to discover, had she been alive. Sansa had waited too long for knights to come rescue her. When she reunited with Jon, she promised herself that she would fight harder for what she wanted. And she wanted him. 

All of her longing, and despair was awarded then, when he returned to her arms, and kissed her back, it was all worth the wait.

**Author's Note:**

> prompted by karlaromualdo
> 
> "So I got a prompt as you asked for them to keep coming in celebration of your 500 followers. Here it goes: "She used to be eternally and devastatingly romantic, back when she thought romantic meant sugary and happy and sweet. But she had found it's actually dark and tormented and sad, it's despair and worry. But, oh! Is it worth it, how is it worth it when he comes back to her" obviously Sansa x Jon after the war."


End file.
